


Blood & Chocolate

by LunaStellaCat



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-28
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2019-01-06 14:14:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12212937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunaStellaCat/pseuds/LunaStellaCat
Summary: Poppy Pomfrey takes the fall for a certain werewolf.





	Blood & Chocolate

The very sight of the blood spilling across the bathroom floor frightened her. Poppy caught it out of the corner of her eye, and at first she passed it off as mere imagination; her tired eyes played tricks on her. She stepped into the bathroom, dropped to her knees, and crawled slowly towards the sandy haired boy with difficulty. Remus Lupin lay there, spread eagled and reaching out to her, for anyone, desperate for help. Cuts and slashes appeared on his body, as if he had been stabbed by a knife time and time again, though there was no weapon in sight. 

“What the hell happened to you?” Poppy’s crisp white apron soaked up the mess and got stained red. 

She patted herself down, lost, and performed quick non-verbal spells. She didn't know where to go with this, yet she had to start somewhere. Growing up on a farm, she’d seen creatures birthed and watched pigs get killed, so the sight of blood was nothing to her. Working in the environment hardened her. The human body held six liters of this stuff; all of it seemed to pour from the boy’s body. Strangely, she didn't know where to start, and this crippled her more than anything else because Poppy always kept her level head above water in a crisis. Whenever she got lost in a task, especially when a student’s life hung in the balance, she forgot about herself and enjoyed an almost outer body experience. 

She ceased to matter, always fading into the background. This wasn't the case anymore. 

“Are you all right?” Remus, pale, met her eyes. 

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that question?” Poppy fought an urge to tuck her hair behind her ear.

She relaxed when the boy closed his eyes. Taking a breath, she slowly siphoned the blood into his body with waves of her wand, but this barely seemed to be working. A nearby stall opened and Severus Snape came out, shaking from head to toe. He shoved her none too gently, muttered some phrase in Latin she didn’t understand, and the blood once again receded from the waters and flowed back into Remus’s body; the wounds started to close. 

Poppy turned to Severus, amazed. “How did you do that, Mr. Snape?” 

Ignoring her, Severus picked up a soaked book, cast a Waterproof Charm upon it, and left the bathroom with a swish of his cloak. Poppy, genuinely afraid of him, though she didn't know why, smelled lingering blood and crawled over to a stall before she lost her lunch. She’d been violently ill throughout the course of her pregnancy. This was hell, and she couldn't wait to get it over with. She went to wash her hands, rinsed out her mouth, and got back to work. Kneeling again, she helped Remus to his feet and treated the deeper cuts when they reached the hospital wing minutes later. 

Thinking she ought to have questioned Severus Snape further, Poppy sat Remus in a wooden straight-backed chair, set to work. One of the precious few in on Remus’s secret, she escorted the boy across the grounds each month and treated him after she collected him at the Shrieking Shack. Poppy often found the boy naked after his transformations, which is why she always carried a rucksack of necessities. He wasn't a student to her; he was her charge, her patient, and she understood him on another level. 

“I’m fine,” Remus slapped her hand away. 

Yesterday morning. he’d been summoned to a Professor Dumbledore's office because he’d exposed himself. His friends were there, too, and while Poppy hadn't been privy to this conversation, she guessed Severus Snape knew they had a werewolf among their ranks. Healer Smethwyck, Remus’s caretaker, had showed up in the middle of the night, too, fuming. Poppy counted herself lucky that she hadn't been on the receiving end of this shouting match. 

“I did nothing to you,” she said sharply, stripping off her apron and heading into her bedroom to change. She dumped the bloody clothes on the floor, decided she’d take care of those later, and pulled on comfortable clothes. Poppy cracked her neck, readied herself for a fight she hoped wouldn’t come, and fell into this patten of distancing herself from Remus. She helped him into the bed and rapped the bedside cabinet with her knuckles. She flipped over a plastic cup. “For the next minute, you can tell me whatever. No judgements. Starting now.” 

“Seriously?” Remus crossed his arms, guarded and skeptical. 

“You’re wasting time,” she said, gathering potions and medications from her stores. She slapped a vial of Blood Replenishing Potion into his hand and told him to chase it when a toxins tonic. “Really, Remus, am I supposed to buy some story about Severus Snape just happening to convince you to fall upon a nonexistent knife repeatedly? Come on.” 

“There was no knife,” he said quietly, taking the potions quickly. He shrugged, desperate to have someone hear him out. Tears swam in in his eyes as he kicked off his trainers. “I swear I knew nothing about him being there. And now Hippocrates thinks I broke a promise, and my dad’s going to kill me when I go home this summer …” 

“Remus, I know you’re sixteen, but you are not a child anymore. Do you know how many of us have put our lives in jeopardy for you? There’s me, Professor Dumbledore, Hippocrates, your parents … my husband…” Poppy held up three fingers. “Two Healers and a matron serve you because Albus Dumbledore asked us to. And we can lose our licenses! I’m having a baby in a couple months! I’ve risked everything.” 

He didn't complain she’d taken his minute. Remus groaned, covering his face with his hands, and fell back on the bed. Anxiety and regret leaked through his tone. “I forgot about Kit.” 

“Yeah, well, you should have thought about that.” Personally, Poppy thought her husband was the least of Remus’s worries.

Poppy went to gather Remus pajamas after he heaved her to her feet. She usually recouped the day after his transformation ended, but this night seemed never ending. How exactly was she supposed to put this in a report? When she got into her bedroom, the emerald green flames flashed and a tall man with dark locks and blue eyes climbed out of the fireplace. Stocky and menacing, Kristopher McGonagall, still dressed in his lime green Healer robes, marched towards the bedroom door. 

He spotted the clothes. “Are you all right? Did he hurt you?” 

“What? No! Kristopher, Kit!” Poppy spun him around, cradled his face in her hands, and took deep, relaxing breaths. She wasn't sure if this worked, for she didn't trust her midwife at the hospital, but it had some effect nonetheless. “Kristopher.” 

“What?” Coming off a demanding marathon shift, Kit’s mind no doubt went in endless directions. “I’m gonna kill that kid.” 

Poppy took his hand, placed it on her side, and raised her eyebrows. Kit softened. This trick, she’d learned, worked like a charm if she timed it well enough. Kit reached for her, laid her carefully on the bed, and Poppy gasped, surprised by the sudden movement, and she closed her eyes, setting the whole Remus Lupin incident aside for the moment. 

Kit rested a hand on her heaving chest. The students’ eyes lingered there, and she had actually snapped at Sirius Black to look her in the eye during their meeting in the headmaster’s office. Was it last night or this morning? Poppy kissed him back, asking for more, yet she refused to cross any lines at the school. Kristopher cast a Silencing Charm, ready to give a fake excuse at work because he had other ideas. 

“You forget yourself, Kristopher,” she warned him, whispering softly in his ear. She kissed him back. They rarely saw each other with their demanding timetables, and Kit lived at the hospital because St. Mungo's owned him like a house-elf. Nauseated, she turned away from him and dashed into the bathroom. 

“Well, that killed the mood,” he sighed, holding her hair back as she leaned over the toilet. When Remus knocked on the office door, Kit gave him the pajamas, short and to the point, and returned to find Poppy resting her head on the cool porcelain. He lifted her easily like a small child, helped her change into her night things, and put her to bed. “You’ve got to get this looked into.” 

“Morning sickness.” 

“It doesn't last like this.” Kit shook his head. Kristopher kicked off his shoes, Kristopher kicked off his shoes, letting them fall pell melatonin the floor. Poppy’s fireplace had connection to the Floo Network and St. Mungo’s in case of emergencies. It wasn't supposed to be used like this, but they hadn't yet gotten caught. Kit snuggled next to her when she turned on her side and closed his eyes, comfortable until she said something. “Hmmm?” 

“Aren't you on shift?” 

“On call. I work till I drop.” Kristopher slipped off his watch and set it on the bedside table. He nodded off so easily he sometimes slept standing up. Poppy lay there, always keeping an ear out for Remus. Kristopher’s snores calmed her. 

Poppy thought how lucky it was she had no longer patients when she heard footsteps coming down the corridor. She heard Professor McGonagall’s unmistakable voice and nudged Kit hard in the ribs, jarring him from sleep. Poppy dressed in silence pulling on another plain black dress, and Kristopher, sleepy and disoriented, tied the strings of the apron with his fingers. 

“Just a moment.” Kristopher called out without thinking. Poppy’s lips fell into a severe line as she tied her hair back. She didn't have time to shower or freshen up. 

There was a pause, and the Professor said, confused, “Kit, is that you?” 

“Ooops.” Kit winced apologetically at Poppy and shooed her towards the door after he grabbed his watch. They went into the ward. Remus sat there laughing. Poppy, simply to have something to do, bustled over to check his vitals. Kit, unashamed, hugged his aunt. He clarified something here, making it perfectly clear, but Poppy saw it as making an awkward situation plain weird. “Auntie, we weren’t sleeping together. Well, we were sleeping together…I fell asleep, and Poppy and I haven't seen each other in ages…” 

“Shut up right now.” Poppy hissed through clenched teeth. She placed the stethoscope on Remus’s chest and ran through her usual checklist. She turned turned back to Professor McGonagall. “Morning. How may I help you?” 

“Bedside manner needs work,” muttered Kit out of the side of his mouth. Remus lost it when Poppy and flipped him off. Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrows when Poppy lowered her hand. A grin spread across Kit’s face. 

“I think I’m coming down with something,” said Professor McGonagall. She sighed when Kit reached in his robes and handed her two bottles of a solution. “What’s this?” 

Culpepper Concoction,” he said simply. “We stockpile this stuff to fend off cold and flu season. It’s a cousin to Pepperup Potion, but you don't walk around with steam blowing out your ears. It’s got orange zest.” 

Remus, merely curious, threw his question out there. “Why do you get it?” 

“Do you want the people treating you to be ill?” Kit rolled his eyes when his watch beeped and kissed Poppy on the cheek. He reached in his pocket and handed her his two remaining vials. “It’s October. You’re on the critical list, so take this at the first sign when you feel down.” 

Poppy pocketed them. “Because I’m a health care professional or because I’m your wife?” She tried to give them back, knowing this stuff was in a shortage because there was no jasper or mandrake root. The flu would wipe them out this year. “Thank you, but I don't need it.” 

“I gotta go,” said Kit, wrapping things up.

“I know that! Take these back,” said Poppy. 

“I know you look like a cloistered nun, Madam Pomfrey, but it would help if you looked in the mirror once on a while.” Kit answered her with a bite of impatience and advised Professor McGonagall to use a few drops. He waved goodbye to Remus and his aunt, pressed his lips to Poppy’s forehead and rested a hand on her belly before he turned to leave through the fireplace. 

Poppy didn't take this as an insult. In fact, she took it as advice. Kristopher had a strange way of coming around. They shared a relationship based on sex and mockery, as Kristopher had put it, and they were really lucky they didn't end up with the baby carriage before the marriage. This happened merely by chance, and Poppy often checked herself whenever people said they were a cute couple because they played this whole thing by ear. And it really was a house of cards. 

“Where are you going to live?” Professor McGonagall pulled her from her thoughts and finally managed to corner her. Poppy told Remus to wait and followed Minerva when she waved towards the office. She held up three fingers, walked behind the desk, and laid down the facts. “Food, water, shelter. Basic necessities. Did Kit even tell you what his father is like? Kristopher’s in London …you’re here.” 

“Kristopher is not Robert,” Poppy reminded her. 

Poppy, not in the slightest surprised she got straight to the point, put her on pause and dashed off again. She’d lost count of the number of times this happened. Professor McGonagall said, not unkindly, their ineptitude seeped seeped through the pores. She’d dropped hints here snd there. She hadn't been against the union, per se, but the baby had come really fast afterwards. As Poppy cleaned herself up, washing her hands like a Healer, Minerva wrung out a compress and wiped the matron’s face. 

“I don't say this to be cruel. I raised Kristopher with my father, and I know him. He goes through women like the seasons. A flight risk. What happens when he tires of you?” 

“He won't.”

“How do you know?” The Professor challenged her. She picked up a hairbrush and took down Poppy’s hair before she pulled it back into a high immaculate ponytail. 

“I don't. I am fine with doing this alone.” Poppy trusted Kit about as far as she could throw him. She loved him more as a friend than a wife, for he was still getting his life together, and they still learned about each other.. Minerva raised her eyebrows, impressed. She drummed her fingers on the countertop, embarrassed, a little color masking her paleness. “I should not have married him, Professor McGonagall.” 

“I would not have. But what do I know?” Professor McGonagall, giving her a rare smile and set the hairbrush aside. Robert McGonagall, Kristopher’s father, amounted to nothing Impressive, and although Robert carried the name of a most beloved reverend, he consistently missed the mark and kept the expectations bar low. Minerva’s beady eyes flashed behind her spectacles. “You keep telling me he’s not Robb. Maybe you’re right. You can stop calling me ‘Professor’.” 

Poppy didn't bother to reapply light makeup. “Who’s side are you on?” 

“Why must there be sides?” Minerva took Poppy’s traveling cloak off the hook as they passed into the bedroom and draped it over the matron’s shoulders. She took her cold hands and rubbed them in her own. “You are losing weight.” 

“I’m fine.” 

“You are not fine,” said Minerva flatly, getting edgy again. “Professor Slughorn told me you collapsed in the staff room yesterday. It is right in front of your face! And as this child is my first great niece, I insist you don’t ignore advice you would give to someone else. You’re dangerously dehydrated, you can't keep anything down, and you’re not sleeping. And your husband’s an idiot.” 

Poppy laughed. 

“I raised him. I can say that,” she said crossly. Minerva started towards at the hospital wing. She had no children of her own, but in Poppy’s eyes, this simply wasn’t true. Minerva wiped something from her eye although there was nothing there. She stopped, tied Poppy's traveling cloak, and seemed to gather herself. “I don't have favorites.” 

“Except for Kristopher. And it’s not a she.” 

Minerva neither confirmed nor denied these things. “What do you recommend for Mr. Lupin? Because if you don't need him here, I insist you head to London and sort whatever this is out. What good is it to us if the cold season comes and you are not here?” 

“Remus. I forgot.” Poppy strode back into the hospital wing and saw the boy pacing back and forth, back and forth, bored out of his mind. Minerva had no idea of his affliction and probably assumed him to be a sickly boy with a weak immune system. Poppy, using this to her full advantage, took out the Culpepper Concoction and slapped her share into his hand. Remus counted as the critical in flu season, too. “If you find you feel under the weather, especially at certain times, you put three drops of this in your morning pumpkin juice and you knock it back.” 

“I don't need…” Remus stopped when Poppy cleared her throat. Professor McGonagall left the hospital wing, wishing Remus well. He slipped them inside his robes. He offered her one of the phials. “What about you?” 

“You don't worry about me. Run along or you’ll miss breakfast.” Poppy smiled when he handed her a parcel of crackers. “Where’d you get these?” 

Remus handed her a thermos and a large chocolate bar from Honeyduke’s. “Ginger tea. My mum says it helps nausea or whatever … you know how I get nervous before … Whatever. It helps. Don’t die on me.” 

“And this?” Poppy waved the chocolate bar in his face. Although she proved nothing, there hadn't yet been a Hogsmeade visit this school year because the first one was around Halloween. 

“Yeah. I dunno what you’re talking about, Madam Pomfrey.” Remus, evasive as ever, pulled his schoolbag over his shoulder and dashed off. 

He came back, perhaps as an afterthought, and Poppy offered him the chocolate back; he didn't have to think about it twice. Stowing the sweet away inside his robes, Remus embraced her, thanked her again, and headed off to the Great Hall to start another school day. 

 

Poppy skipped breakfast. She travelled to London, waited in the queue to speak to the Welcome Witch, and wasted another hour only to hurry up and wait in an examination room. It felt strange on this side of the fence, almost like the outside looking in, but she went through the motions and sat on an examination table until she gave up altogether. Exhausted, she went back to Hogwarts Castle and curled up in the bed. 

There were no students in the hospital wing. She received the diagnosis of morning sickness for the umpteenth time, though she knew this wasn't in her head; none of the Healers listened to her, and she'd been warned there was quite a danger in self-diagnosis. It was normal, they’d said, and all mothers fretted the first time around. Poppy didn't know, yet it didn't feel right. And she hadn't the energy nor the will to argue against them. 

She closed her eyes and took a sleeping serum without reading the instructions; a disgusting synthetic grape flavor lingered in her mouth. An instant warmth washed over her. Thinking she imagined this as she went from alertness to sleep, Poppy reached out to stoke Kristopher’s trimmed beard, yet he cleared this up when his lips met hers time and time again. He followed her home by the Floo Network. 

Kit, smirking, toed the line, challenging her to tell him off. He climbed into bed with her. “Martha suggests termination.” 

“At seven months?” Relieved someone, anyone, finally believed her, Poppy considered this for a heartbeat. She linked her fingers through his, thinking it over, yet she turned it down the moment she heard this Martha said they were young and could have more children. Poppy had done her own reading and research on hyperemesis gravidarum, or HG, largely a Muggleborn condition. “You don't understand. It’ll happen again.”

“Poppy,” sighed Kit. 

“I can't kill her.” said Poppy. 

“Now’s it’s a she,” noted Kit dully.

“But I won't do this again on my own, Kristopher. I’ll go … I’ll find someone.” Poppy, determined, got shakily to her feet when someone knocked on the ward door. Kit followed her. She quickened her pace when she saw Remus, a heap, lying in the corridor, and she pointed her wand at the retreating form. “You stop right there!” 

Kit moved quicker. “Impedimenta!” 

The boy got knocked backwards. Kit went to restrain him, and although he fought against the hold, Poppy recognized the sallow skin and the greasy hair. Kit heaved Severus to his feet roughly, ordered him to help carry Remus, and ushered him inside the hospital wing. They laid an unconscious Remus on the bed. A trail of blood marked their path. 

“What did you do to him?” Poppy, slightly panicked, checked a weak pulse. She usually bustled about, but she moved at a slower pace as she snapped on gloves and Kit tied an apron around her belly. She didn't understand why Severus didn't leave Remus. The boy looked scared, his wand at his side. Poppy ran through an examination. “Kristopher, I need…”

Without saying anything, almost like he read her mind, Kit helped her with a facial mask. He stepped down in station, acting as her matron assistant or an overqualified orderly. As she searched for the source of the bleeding, he wrapped her hair back and wiped beaded sweat from her forehead. When Poppy found the slashes on Remus’s thigh, she mended it it a quick spell, but clotted blood leaked into her shoes. She’d forgotten to slip on trainers. She raised her hands, backing off when the nausea overtook her and let Kit patch Remus up.

“What the hell are you playing at?” Poppy rounded on Severus as Kit spoon-fed Remus Blood Replenishing Potion. 

“I … I didn't know …” Severus, pale, fidgeted with the sleeve of his robes. He stared at Remus’s body and pointed at it. “Do you know what he is?” 

“Yes,” she spat, determined to leave it there. Poppy took off her apron and her ruined shoes. She took out her wand, conjured her laundry basket, added her ruined linens, and handed them to Severus. “Wash these.” 

“I’m not a house-elf,” he said. “You can't tell me what to do!” 

“House-elves don’t wash clothes, sir. And you’ll find she can ask anything of you!” Kit glared at Severus until he stalked off. Kit turned to Remus, who got some color back in his skin. “Are you okay?” 

Remus nodded. He held up a hand when Kit whacked him smartly in the back of the head. “Ouch! What was that for?” 

“That’s for messing up the clinical trial with the Wolfsbane Potion.” Poppy filled him in, her voice going up an octave. Kit nodded and stayed his hand in case Remus needed a reminder. Remus grumbled. “Remus, you know better. Come on!” 

“All right, Kit, all right!” Remus swung his feet over. 

“If this gets out of hand, darling, I can't save you. I’m traveling to London this afternoon to beg Hippocrates Smethwyck and Mr. Belby on your behalf. I make no promises. But you have to nip your problems with that boy in the bud! Now!” Poppy, hating the emotion spilling into her tone, bit her bottom lip. 

“She’s not your mama,” said Kit, placing a reassuring hand on Poppy’s shoulder. He relaxed, winking at Remus, and set his anger aside. “This is the hunger and the tears taking, Remus, it isn't you.” 

“It’s you,” said Poppy, shaking her head. Remus hugged her again, tighter this time, and handed her another chocolate bar before he started towards the door. She wiped her eyes hastily. “Where in the world do you get this stuff?” 

Remus shook his head, not revealing his secrets. He left. Poppy rolled her eyes. She’d met Remus’s mother, Hope, and the entire Lupin family said Poppy and Hope were kindred spirits. Poppy let him win her over. Kit, Hippocrates’s man, kept his anger at bay better than his aunt, yet Remus acted like an adult because he hadn't been around other children until he came to Hogwarts. 

Kit helped her dress into a ridiculous pooka dot pink maternity dress. “You look matronly.” 

Poppy doubted whether this would win her favor with Mr. Belby, a potioneer first and a human being second. Truth be told, she likened Damocles Belby to a hemorrhoid, for he didn't get on well with many people, and he certainly was a pain in the ass. Poppy didn't really know him, but Kit worked closely with Hippocrates Smethwyck, who headed the project. They travelled by the Floo Network because Healers kept her grounded, but Kit had convinced them to station this meeting at a Hogsmeade. 

“I don't want to go,” she said, stopping him before they turned into the Hog’s Head. 

“Poppy, if we’re going to take this hit for Remus, that’s on us. Hippocrates get irrationally angry, and then he simmers down.” Kit shrugged. “Remus endangered that boy.” 

"I know." Poppy nodded, grateful Kit laid it out plain and simple. But none of this seemed plain and simple to her. "This wasn't done intentionally or maliciously ...and they are boys." 

"What the other boy did was intentional. Are you blind? These boys don't understand. Belby will read it like Remus did this." Kit rolled his eyes when Poppy shook her head, mouthing at him wordlessly. "You've met Mr. Belby, right? Life's not fair."

"Remus isn't... he's a boy." Poppy shook her head, pleading to the wrong person. "Kristopher, please."

"I know that," said Kristopher impatiently, sighing when she pulled at his robes, "but I don't think my opinion carries a lot of weight here."

“But what if you get suspended? You’ll lose your standing and…”

“… and I’ll brush myself off and get back in the game. I’ll live.” Kit shrugged it off like it was nothing. 

“Kristopher.” 

“Poppy.” He matched her tone and expression until he saw the sudden tears swimming again. “It’s all right.” 

“It’s not all right,” she said, shaking her head. 

“It is what it is.” Kit shrugged, clearly saying there was nothing they could for about it now; it was a bitter pill to swallow. Professor Dumbledore might have kept Severus from saying anything, but it was still out there. He reached into her white leather pocketbook and took out the dark chocolate bar. He nodded at a table where Lyall Lupin, Damocles Belby. and Hippocrates sat in the corner. “You want some of this? It might make you feel better, or it might make you feel like shit. Who knows? Doesn't matter, does it?” 

Thinking he followed a young werewolf’s logic, Poppy nodded timidly and cracked her neck. This reminded her of ripping off a bandage; this pain, too, shall pass. Kit smacked the chocolate on the table, snapping it, and offered her a particularly large piece.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this with a nurse who treated me during surgery in mind. She turned me every hour. Thanks for reading. Let me know what you think.


End file.
